


The Journey To Ostagar

by AliceAro



Series: Unpopular Stories of Solona Amell [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotionally Unstable!Amell, Father Figures, Friendship, Gen, Socially Confused!Amell, bipolar!Amell, i guess, sad!Amell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:25:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceAro/pseuds/AliceAro
Summary: A prequel to Meanings and Reasons.Duncan lied. He did have a moment of doubt. And it was unworthy of him.Written in Duncan's POV.





	The Journey To Ostagar

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, I haven't written fanfiction for half a year. But it's finally summer so hopefully I can write more stupid fics.
> 
> Anyways enjoy!

Duncan wanted to break the man’s face. He barely stayed his hand when the merchant leered at his newest recruit’s chest, but had lost his temper at the vendor’s not so subtle suggestion of a trading one of his tents for an inappropriate “service” from the young mage. The only reason the man still had his front teeth was because Amell actually considered the offer by asking for clarification on said “service.” Duncan barely reigned in his anger as he dragged the mageling away by the arm.  
  
After some distance, Duncan turned to confront Amell about her very unbecoming behavior. But as he saw her confused yet somehow blank expression his anger quickly evaporated into mild exasperation. Duncan kept forgetting how she had lived her whole life in the Circle, leaving her with a very narrow and distorted view of the outside world. She had explained days earlier that in the Tower everyone kissed everyone and that it was not uncommon to trade sexual favors for other such boons. Mistakenly, the notion that the outside world was similar had stuck to her. Duncan didn’t know how to explain to her that this was not (entirely) the case.  
  
However he can’t just let her go on like this. Duncan may be recruiting Amell for life as a Grey Warden, but dammit if he didn’t just forget that she was barely even a woman. This young girl was his charge now. The life he’s leading her into will be rife with hardship but it will not be one of neglect and apathy, something she is no doubt use to.  
  
The mageling kept silent while he gathered his thoughts. It worried Duncan how unresponsive she was to her surroundings. When they began their journey, Amell could only be described as bleak and bland with no vestige of there ever being a person.  


* * *

Her small frame pressed through the wild, unruly thickets of the forest. Not bothering to properly move them out of the way, the thin low hanging branches of the trees would snapped against her exposed skin leaving angry red marks and wounds. It should have hurt, but the girl didn’t seem to register the pain. Thorns from an undergrowth caught on the seams of her robe and she’d simply walked on. Uncaring if her garments were ripped in the process. A blunder in her stride would cause her to graze against jagged rocks or rough tree barks, tearing at her skin again and again. By the end of the day his newest recruit was tattered and bleeding.  
  
She didn’t fare much better at night. Salve kept her wounds from being infected, but bruises and blisters still formed in patches across her skin. He didn’t question why she hadn’t used magic. A needle and thread was available to mend her clothes, but the mageling’s stitching was crude and uneven. It resulted with her clothing appearing even uglier and more ragged than it did with just frayed edges.  
  
Roasting on a skewer above the campfire was a rabbit that Duncan had caught. The mage girl had stared at the hare with uninterest. Instead of eating, her sight had drifted to the rogue’s bedroll, possibly thinking of foregoing a meal and just slipping off to slumber.  
  
Suddenly, there was a flash of silver in the corner of her eye followed by a loud thud of an object being imbedded in a tree behind her head.  
  
The cut was deep and there was a thick dark red line oozing down her face. Amell didn’t even bother to look when the blood dripped from her cheeks unto the back of her hand. Her stare was pointed towards the rogue’s raised hand that was no longer holding the dagger it had clutched seconds ago. She brought her stare up to look into the Grey Warden’s eyes.  
  
Duncan was seething. Blind, impulsive rage caused him to hurl the blade at the mage, willing her in his mind to act and to defend herself. The Knight-Commander had warned him against recruiting this mage. Claiming it would be a mistake he would greatly regret. But he need her power. Even without a Templar’s capabilities to detect magic, he, a mere rogue, sensed the vastness of her magical prowess. Where was it now? Surely it wasn’t this weak and flickering magic he had been sensing from her all night by the fire. It angered him beyond belief to know that this mageling could be hiding skills that should and would have been sworn to serve the Grey Wardens.  
  
Amell stared into Duncan’s eyes. Whether it was a noise of pain or indignation, she didn’t utter a single sound. Blood continued to seep from gash on her cheek.  
  
_At least heal it!_ Duncan growled in his mind.  
  
She didn’t.  
  
Suppressing a snarl, Duncan ordered the mage to eat then sleep while he took first watch. Amell did the bare minimum to obey the Grey Warden’s order. A singular, lethargic bite was taken of the rabbit’s leg. A bite she barely chewed before swallowing. In the next few moments, she laid, eyes open, on Duncan’s bedroll not having one of her own.  
  
For a while, blank, unfocused eyes stared up at the dark sky. The wound he had given her cheek had clotted and ceased bleeding. Duncan didn’t see her shed a tear, but when the mage turned to her side facing away from him to finally sleep he saw that edge of his bedroll by her head was damped.  
  
Duncan pushed down the guilt and shame at being a grown man losing his temper and assaulting an unarmed girl who can barely be called an adult. Feeling sorry for her won’t do any good. He didn’t have time to coddle her. War was coming and there was a possible Blight on their hands. If Amell couldn’t take care of herself… if Amell couldn’t handle her sorrow at simply losing a friend, not in death, but simply by separation, then she had no business being in a battlefield were chaos and blood ran assured.  
  
The next village was two days away. The decent thing to do would be to leave her there and go on his way. What he wanted to do, however, was totally abandon her as she slept. Leaving her to wake up alone and stranded in an unfamiliar forest.  
  
As he retrieved his dagger still rooted in the tree, he mulls the thoughts over and over in his head. It only seemed like minutes since he sat back down lost in contemplation, but when Amell stirred and abruptly sat up looking well rested, albeit with a still listless look in her eyes, Duncan concluded that hours must have gone by. Wordlessly, the mageling smoothed out his bedroll and sluggishly made her way to the edge of the camp. With her back turned to him, Amell sat down, legs drawn to her chest, and stared out to the night at the forest which the rogue had been watching. An overwhelming urge to throttle the mage came unbidden to Duncan. The recruit dared to act and take up the second watch without his say so. Initiative wasn’t exactly one of the girl’s virtue. This seemed more like a passive-aggressive ploy to rile him up.  
  
Not trusting himself to speak, least he berates her in a way unbefitting that of a Warden-Commander, Duncan strode over to his bedroll and laid down. Years of practice has enable the rogue to go into a light slumber that was sure to be broken by even a whisper of the wind. He didn’t trust this mage girl at all to stand guard.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
The next time he open them, the sun was well up in the sky. It was noon.  
  
His panic shout caused nearby birds to fly away. How could this have happened? How in the world did he sleep so soundly and for so long? When he surveyed his surroundings, blood practically drained from his face.  
  
_Oh gods._  
  
He was surrounded by dead animals. Several wolves and dozens of crows laid lifeless on the ground. Beneath the creatures, intricate lines and patterns were carved on the soil. Duncan whipped his head in search for the mage girl. He found her prodding the dying embers of their campfire with a stick. A dagger, his dagger, the one he had used to harm her, the one that he sheathed and strapped to his side before he slept, was now at her feet. That, to Duncan, was the most horrifying aspect of the situation.  
  
“Wha–” Duncan’s mind insisted his voice wavered because he had just recently awoken. Not, he swore, because of fear. “What happened here?”  
  
Amell seemed to be in a stupor because she neither replied nor tore her gaze from the campfire’s remains. Duncan was too shock to be angry so he pressed on.  
  
“Amell…” Maybe there was something in his voice, a plea that awoke her, but Amell turned her gaze to Duncan.  
  
“S-sorry,” Her voice came out as a raspy choke. Duncan winced, having no recollection of the girl ever drinking any water since their departure from the Tower. “I-I borrowed you-you’re dagger.” She stuttered.  
  
“How?” He blinked. How did she do all this without waking him? “How did you take it without me sensing you?”  
  
The mageling cringed. Duncan was sure he hadn’t shouted. Why did this question bother her? Last night’s events certainly didn’t seemed to faze her. Her eyes almost glaze over Duncan as she spoke. “For-force magic…it, uh, mutes sound… movements…”  
  
“Why?” Duncan managed to rise from his bedroll and stagger to the nearest beast. When he turned back to Amell she had a far-off look in her eyes, as if she wasn’t quite there anymore. “Why did you take my dagger?” He tried to sound gentle ~~again not because he was scared of her~~ as he prodded her to go on.  
  
Amell seemed to snap back into reality then, accompanied by a shock, confused look in her face. “I…” She indicated to the carvings on the ground, “wards…” Duncan studied them. The girl had the foresight to place them for their safety. They were detailed and complex. He slipped a finger into a groove. It went two knuckles deep. Creating these wards would have taken much time and effort. He looked back at Amell. She had drawn her knees to her chest again, but he could clearly see the filth and mud on her robes. “I, ah, placed them… after you slept. It… paralyzes…” She slowly looked up a Duncan, “…not anymore.” Referring, of course, to the fact that he was still mobile.  
  
One knee to the ground, he examined the dead wolves. There was no visible cuts or wounds on these creatures. If not for their bulging eyes and tongue sticking out of their snouts, they might have simply been asleep. He looked at the engravings on the ground again. _Paralyze_ , he thought, _not kill._  
  
“How did they die?” He faced her again. Trying to coax her into looking at him. He needed all the facts. She didn’t answer, didn’t look at him, but he was going to be patient this time. He searched her frame for any sign of a struggle, small scars from her carelessness during their journey and the gash on her cheek from his dagger were still present. But he was searching for new wounds that these beast might have inflicted on her. When he found none, he questioned her again. Softly, careful not to frighten her, he said, “Amell… tell me how.”  
  
“They… I–” she rasped as she swallowed, “air… I took the air… emptied their lungs.”  
  
_Egads, the wolves have suffocated._ He realized in horror. _What defense is there against this kind of magic?_  
  
He closed his eyes, willing his terror aside. When he opened them again, he walked over to the mage’s prone figure and sat down. Amell flinched at the noise and stumbled a little away from him. Unperturbed, he prodded her for more answers.  
  
“What about the birds?”  
  
Her reply continued to be in broken tongue with stammers every now and then. “…c-came to feast… corpses… t-too small… wards paralyzed everyth-thing… tiny hearts…. stop-p…” Duncan grabbed a waterskin from his sack and pressed into her writhing hands. The more she talked the hoarser she sounded. Forgetting his resolve to not coddle her, Duncan urged her to drink. When she didn’t, he verbally pleaded with her. Distressed by his words, Amell took a big swig from the waterskin. Her throat had been so dry she ended up having a coughing fit. It only got worse when the rogue place a hand to pat her on the back. Seeing her shy away from touch, he dropped his hand.  
  
Amell, completely at a loss for what to do, spluttered out, “Ra-rabbit! I think…they came for the rabbit.” Of course! The wolves were attracted to the smell. How could he have forgotten about it? He mentally cursed himself for such a foolish oversight. If Amell hadn’t made her wards then… he didn’t want to think about it.  
  
The hare was propped on the ground by his bedroll. The girl must have moved it from the fire to keep it from burning to a crisp.  
“Why didn’t you get rid of it?”  
  
Amell winced. Duncan could see why that might have sounded like a rebuke to her ears. He thought of reassuring her, but before he could speak she replied, “I, ah, thought you… were still gonna eat… you haven’t eaten.”  
  
She…was thinking of him? After the way he treated her any concern or kindness on her part was unexpected and undeserved. The guilt and shame that Duncan tried so hard to keep at bay came crashing down on him. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was ready to toss her aside as if she were nothing, simply because her misery annoyed him. He should say something, make this right, and apologize. But could he even do anything? What could he possibly say?  
  
A thud resounded snapping Duncan out of his small reverie. Amell had fallen forward and crashed into their now thankfully put out campfire. The young girl spat soot out of her mouth and tried to rub the ashes from her face. Without thinking he snatched the waterskin which the girl had dropped from the ground and spilled the contents on her head. Amell cried and flayed in alarm but Duncan gripped her shoulder to steady her. With a piece of cloth, he wiped grim off her skin and clothes. When he was done, he retrieved the salve from his belongings and gently smeared the cream on any new scratches the girl had gotten. It wasn’t until his fingertips brushed against the corners of her lips did he realize how awkward and weird he was being. Maybe manhandling her is not the way to go about this “making things right” thing.  
  
He dropped his hands to the side.  
  
Amell looked more distressed and uncomfortable than ever. When Duncan let her go, she curled herself into a ball looking like she wanted to cry. But she also looked like she was about to fall over again. Dark circles marred the skin under her eyes. Her breathing was labored. Her finger shook ever so slightly. She must have been exhausted. Did she really get enough sleep the night before? He looked up at the sky. It was only a little bit past noon, but continuing on their travel seem out of the question.  
  
“Lie down,” the rouge said softly but it still startled the mage. He reached out and gently pinched the sleeve of her robe right above her wrist, attempting to carefully guide her to his bedroll least she fall over again.  
  
**“NO!”**  
  
Amell baulked and screamed in terror. She stumbled backwards, almost hitting her head again. Duncan tried to keep her upright but the mageling struggled and edged way with a look of utter panic in her eyes. He tried to placate her, but to no avail.  
  
“I can’t. I can’t!” The mageling nearly sobbed.  
  
“Amell, calm down. Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?” Duncan had to suppress the urge to hold her tightly against his chest and ran a soothing hand through her hair. There is no way clutching a scared and panicked girl in that manner against her will could be considered lawful. He settled with daintily curling his fingers around hers. Amell pulled away as far as she could but did not shake off his hand.  
  
With a shaky breath Amell let her tears fall and noiselessly sobbed into her free hand. Duncan rubbed small circles against the mageling’s knuckles offering her words of comfort as she cried herself out. Thoughts of the war and the Blight fled to the back of Duncan’s mind. He let nothing but genuine concern slip out of his lips.  
Finally Amell looked up from her hand and stared into Duncan’s eyes.  
  
“Tell me what’s wrong.” _Tell me how to help you._ He let the silent message show in his eyes.  
  
Amell bit her forefinger and Duncan was afraid she might draw blood. But hesitantly, muffled by her hand, she murmured, “Demons.” Instinctively, Duncan drew out his blade with his free hand.  
  
“No,” Amell said quickly. “Not here. In the Fade. They…they haunt my sleep.” Duncan relaxed and sheathed his weapon. That explained her negative reaction to the prospect of sleeping.  
  
“Surely you can fight them off with your magic.” Amell demeanor changed. She let out a short, bitter, hysterical laugh. That, Duncan was willing to admit, frightened him. A dark looked shadowed her face as she delivered her next words in a clean, smoothed tenor that Duncan had to wonder if he was still talking to the same girl.  
  
“My magic was the lure that brought them to me in the first place. My magic has painted a target across my back. My magic is the catalyst that will bring dark and evil things from beyond the Veil.” She recited grimly, her dark eyes moved humorlessly as if she was reading across the page of a book. Duncan wondered if it was perhaps the Chantry who put those terrible thoughts in her head. Then Amell blinked and she was back to being a small frightened girl, too scared to even sleep lest she fall prey to demons.  
  
Duncan thought his heart might have broken a little.  
  
“Is there a way I can help you?” He finally asked. “How did the Tower protect you from these demons?”  
  
Like lightning, a spark of anger flashed in Amell’s eye. It was gone so quickly Duncan might have missed it if he had blinked. “The Tower did nothing for me. It was my bro-” Her voice faltered as she bit back a sob, “it was… Jowan who guarded me while I slept. He would gather me in his arms and it kept the demons at bay.”  
  
_Jowan. The blood mage who left you._  
  
Duncan didn’t dare say that aloud.  
  
“That’s all he did, kept you company? That was enough?”  
  
There was a look of such devastation in the mageling’s face that Duncan had to turn away. He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“He went into the Fade with you.”  
  
It was a few moments before Amell answered. “No. He just brought be back whenever the dreams go too far.”  
  
Duncan glanced at their hands still joined together and made a decision. “Sleep. I will watch over you and bring you back if necessary.”  
  
Amell gave Duncan a dubious look. Yet she did not scream when he again led her to the bedroll. Duncan gave a small prayer of thanks to the Maker. He let go of her hand to pass her his warm wool blanket. Amell did not lay down, only stared at him as she took the offered blanket. Duncan said his next words carefully.  
  
“I expect you to be a warrior. A force of nature that can turn the tide of this upcoming war. In the Tower, you were a monstrous sight to behold. The Grey Wardens will need you to become that again. So if you need me, I will do what I can to help you. If you need me, I will guard you, protect you, and guide you. I expect you to be a warrior. But you will not be alone.”  
  
Duncan looked evenly into Amell’s eyes. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”  
  
Amell tilted her head as if in confusion. But her blank eyes cleared and her lips pressed together in a thin line.  
  
“Yes,” she breathed. And that was enough. Amell laid herself down. It spoke volume of how drained and weary the mage really was that she was sound asleep in a matter of moments.  
  
For a long while, Duncan just sat by her and watched. Vigilantly aware that any twitch of a finger or any change in her breathing could be a sign of danger. When he was satisfied that no harm has come to her, he stood up.  
  
The rogue walked up to one of the dead wolves that Amell has slain. His footsteps were but a whisper against the grass. He kept the mageling in view as he sat down again, wolf corpse in front of him.  
  
Duncan took out a thin hunting knife and got to work. 

* * *

“Pardon me… ser,” Amell grimaced at the word, clearly not use to addressing authority figures with respect, but she tried with Duncan. “But I have no other form of currency. What exactly am I to barter with?”  
  
“You will be given a stipend.” Duncan said matter-a-factly. “For your services as a Grey Warden. However, since you will not be paid till the battle is over. You will have to let me or a fellow Warden to cover the cost of your needs. ”  
  
Amell face twisted at that. She didn’t look too happy about relying on other’s for aid. Since the initial afternoon when Duncan had first helped her sleep, Amell had become more independent. Apparently the kindness was not something the mage could easily stomach. The mageling seemed utterly disgusted with her previous destitute state that every following action of hers practically shouted: **I DO NOT NEED ANYONE!**  
  
Duncan wanted to laugh. It was kind of adorable.  
  
Still this was another extreme that wasn’t advisable for the young mage to take.  
  
“I told you, you will not be alone. You can rely on your fellow warriors just as they can rely on you. Understand?”  
  
Like a petulant child, Amell slightly puffed her cheeks. But she nodded.  
  
“Good.” Duncan patted the mage on the head. “Now come, the tailor should be done by now.”  
  
The Warden-Commander expected begrudging acceptance has he gave Amell another handout. But as Amell ran her fingers through the dark fur and marveled at the softness, she quickly donned on her new robe.  
  
“I know mages typically use feathers but I thought the pelts of the wolves you had slain would suit you better.” He tried not to smile as Amell twirled away from him and exited the tailor’s shop. She probably didn’t hear him.  
  
Once he had paid the other shopkeepers for their other equipment, they were back on the road again. His newest recruit continued to rub her hands across her body to feel the fur, a look of simple joy on her face. Duncan wondered if he would ever truly understand the curious creature that is Solona Amell.  
  
“I’m glad you like it.”  
  
Solona looked at him and gave him a beautiful smile.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Duncan smiled back at her as they continued their journey to Ostagar.


End file.
